Letting it Be
by rhhgrt
Summary: Andromeda finds away to make Teddy stop crying. Some fluff, some angst. Was inspired by a conversation with DeepDownSlytherin.


**Letting it Be**

There was the knock on the door. She had been expecting that knock. With a bleak sort of resignation, she stood up, crossed the room, and pulled open the door to find Kingsley Shacklebolt standing on the threshold. She met his eyes and she knew. She had always known, but now her knowledge was confirmed.

As Kingsley opened his mouth and struggled to find the words, she decided to take some pity upon him and relieve him of this unhappy task.

"Dora didn't make it, did she?"

Kingsley blinked, and then opened his mouth unsurely.

"No, Andromeda, she didn't. I-I'm so sorry."

She smiled dejectedly at him.

"Don't be sorry; _you_ had nothing to do with it."

He knew by the emphasis she put on the word "you" that she already knew who had killed her daughter. Narcissa Malfoy had confirmed it earlier that day but, well, if Andromeda knew he certainly wasn't going to bring it up.

"And Remus?" she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

He looked at her sadly.

"I'm afraid that Remus didn't make it either."

"Well," she said, looking as the she had been caught off guard, "that's a bit of a shock."

Indeed, she did look shocked. Obviously she hadn't expected her daughter to survive the battle, but the news that her son-in-law was dead, and that her three month old grandson was entirely in her care had obviously taken her by surprise.

"Andromeda I—" he began, searching for any sort of consolation he could possibly provide.

"Thank you Kingsley," she cut him off in a blank, detached, sort of voice, "I had better go in and check on Teddy. Thank you for your consideration and kind words."

And before he could reply she closed the door.

She stood immobile, staring at the now closed door, her mind blank with shock. She had no idea how to begin to cope with this new development. She could almost feel herself succumbing to pain, and rage.

She clenched her fists. She had to beat this. She couldn't let it win. She couldn't let Bella win—she knew who was responsible for the deaths of her family, and if she succumbed to the feelings coursing through her then Bella would have won. But how?-how was she to escape those feelings?

The sitting room was the same as it had always been, the kitchen was the same, the photos on the wall were the same, smiling and waving into eternity. But there, there on the far side of the room was the door. The door that led to Ted's office. A door that Andromeda had not opened since the day Ted left.

As if in a trance, Andromeda felt her feet carry her over to the door of his office. She opened it hesitantly, almost as if afraid that something would jump out her. But no, it was the same as she had last seen it. It even smelled the same—it smelled like Ted. She let the smell wash over her, and for a moment she took comfort from its familiarity.

She walked over to his desk and sat down in the familiar chair. There, across from the chair, was the built in shelf which held Ted's record collection. She smiled again—no matter how long he had been a member of the magical community, Ted never lost his love for muggle music.

Andromeda slid off the chair and knelt before the shelf, running a finger across the records. She stopped about halfway through the shelf and pulled one out at random. It was a Beatles album. She grinned even wider—Ted had loved the Beatles. She carried the record over to Ted's old record player, and rather clumsily set up the record. She winced as she set it down, hoping it wouldn't scratch—Ted wouldn't like that; he had been so protective of his records.

She set the needle down at random and "Yellow Submarine" started up. No, that certainly wasn't the song she was looking for. She lifted the needle and set it down at random once more. She knew what she was looking for, and, to her pleasure, she managed to set the needle down at exactly the song she was looking for.

She curled up in Ted's chair as the music began to flow through the room. "_…And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer; let it be. For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see. There will be an answer, let it be_."

At the same time as that refrain sang out sweetly from the record player, a loud cry rang through the house and pulled her out of her reverie; Teddy was awake.

She rushed upstairs, lifted him out of his cradle, and held him tightly. He continued to cry incessantly, though, and nothing she could do would make him stop. Perhaps he knew, somehow, that he would never meet his parents. Perhaps he was grieving in the only way he knew how.

When that thought struck her she was hit with an idea. As she readjusted the little boy in her, she murmured the words "When the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer. Let it be," softly in his ear to see if it would help.

Teddy stopped screaming momentarily to shoot her a quizzical glance, but continued to whimper.

She cleared her throat—she hadn't sung anything in a very long time

"_For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer, let it be_," she sang to him. He closed his mouth—which had been opened to resume the screaming—and smiled at her. Encouraged, she sang the whole line to him as she carried him downstairs to feed him his lunch.

. "_…And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer; let it be. For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see. There will be an answer, let it be_."

By the time she reached the kitchen, Teddy was smiling contentedly and was ready to eat. From that day forward, whenever Teddy was being particularly difficult, she would sing some lines of that song to him, and whatever was bothering him would go away.

It was almost like magic. Almost.


End file.
